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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438376">Purple Pixie</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats'>TalesOfOnyxBats</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autumn, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Sokkla Saturday</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:22:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll dye my hair purple if you shave the beard." Azula begins to regret making this deal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Azula/Sokka (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Purple Pixie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sokkla Saturday, week I lost track of what number we're on so I'm just gonna say 4.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Azula folds her arms over her chest and frowns. She is coming to realize that she might have gotten the short end of this deal. Sokka looks better--strikingly handsome, actually--for it and she looks utterly ridiculous. She wonders if that was the point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She ties her hair up and tugs a furry hat over her head. At least there is a fine film of frost on the ground to justify her headwear. She slips on a pair of gloves and a fashion scarf as well before heading outside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She should have called Sokka for a ride but she is frustrated with him. And yet she is on her way to his house. She wishes that she had waited to bring her car to the shop for a general check up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kicks up crunchy brown leaves as she walks along the sidewalk. It is still very early in the morning and the chill in the air makes the steam of her latte  look all the warmer. She takes a sip and then pulls her scarf to cover her nose. Likely it will be a soft shade of pink by the time she sets foot on Sokka’s porch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Azula!” Jet calls from across the street. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She returns the greeting with a wave and hastily walks by before he can study her too closely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unlike her own family’s home, Sokka’s is decorated as warmly and cozily as ever. The sidewalk is lined with pumpkins and squashes of various sizes. In between each leans a bundle of decorative corn. A smiling scarecrow with button eyes and a joyful smile stands guard at the door next to a square of hay. Avoiding the leafy wreath hanging upon it, Azula gives the door a knock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sokka throws it open and inhales deeply. “Ah, glad you can make it! It smells like autumn! Come in, dad made apple pie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azula fights to hang onto her bitter resentment. “Your father always makes very good pie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got cider too!” Katara calls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remind me to take some home for father and Zuzu.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She follows him into the house and takes a seat. Hakoda gives her a warm smile and a hello, “large or small slice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Somewhere in between, thank you.” Azula replies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take off that hat.” Sokka makes a sntach for it. She ducks under his arm and her knees collide with the table. She gives a soft hiss and Sokka rubs the back of his hands mumbling an apology. Her pout deepens and she is folding her arms again. “Come on, let me see it!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Sokka.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on…” he whines with a pout of his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t part of the deal.” She grumbles. “I said I’d do it but I never said I’d show it off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can see my results.” Sokka points out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well that was your own choice. I never said that you had to parade your misfortunes around.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have much of a choice, Azula. They don’t make chin hats.” He pauses. “Besides I think I look rather dashing without my beard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I was trying to tell you.” She mutters. “But I liked my hair the way it was before.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for your sacrifice.” Katara whispers. “Dad and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the beard wasn’t working for him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Change is sometimes good.” Sokka remarks as Hakoda sets their plates down. Azula takes hers and jabs her fork into the slice with more force than needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not this one.” She grumbles. “It looks stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It does not.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you know? You haven’t seen it yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then let me have a look.” Without any further warning, he swipes her hat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slumps in her chair with an even deeper pout. Sokka grins and ruffles her hair. “You really did it!” He comments with a laugh. Her cheeks grow hot. “She really did it, Kat! Look!” He points, “purple pixie!” He pauses. “You didn’t cut your bangs though?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I needed something to salvage this.” She mumbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think that it looks cute.” Katara smiles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azula grabs her hat back and yanks it over her freshly cut and dyed locks. Her attention is now fully on that slice of apple pie. It certainly is as tasty as last year’s was. It is warmly sweet enough to pull her mind away from her disaster hair for just a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, I think that it looks nice.” Sokka’s playful grin softens into a more sympathetic smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azula gives a pointed sniff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to sit outside?” He offers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The woods look gorgeous this time of the year.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya know what else looks gorgeous when it changes color?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He elongates the silence. “Your hair.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She inhales through her nose, picks up her plate and mutters, “I think I’m going to spend the evening watching shitty sports with your father.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oooor, you can sit on the deck with your newly beardless and highly clever boyfriend.” He holds up an armful of flannel. “I already got the blanket and there’s a quilt on the chair outside so we can get extra cozy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate you, Sokka. Really I do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aaand, I have two mugs of cider…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> made the cider, Sokka.” Katara interrupts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll meet you on the deck.” Azula grumbles. She is greeted by a crisp breeze that is perfumed burning leaves, likely from the house down the road. She thinks fondly of the bonfire that her father is due to throw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The breeze rattles the branches and the trees sneeze a plume of dried leaves in her direction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you still have that oldies album in your purse. The one that you stole from your dad?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods. “I’m getting tired of carrying it around with me so you better find your ‘right time to listen to it’ moment soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well it just so happens that I’d love to listen to it now.” He replies smugly and cups her hand around a hot mug of cider. She hands him the CD and makes room for him on the chair. He gestures for her to sit on his lap and wraps the quilt and blanket around her Rosemary Cloony and Frank Sinatra sing their odes to the season. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is nice, right? Watching the leaves fall.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azula nods, “it’s fine, I guess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really do like it, you know? The haircut and the purple.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You better.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kisses the top of her head. “I wouldn’t have agreed to that deal if I thought that it would look awful.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Azula takes another drink from her cider and watches another cloud of leaves drift down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But if you really hate it, I don’t mind you dying it black again.” She feels his arms tighten around her torso. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “I’ll keep it for a few days and see if I can get used to it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes light up. “Great! Maybe next fall you can dye it blue!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. We’ll see.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It can be an autumn tradition; when the leaves change color your hair can…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re pushing it.” She rolls her eyes. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I think that it’s a great idea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and help me finish this slice of pie, Sokka.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mind if I do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She drinks in the rustle of the leaves as it mixes with the vintage tunes on the radio. Savors the smell of cooked apples and burning leaves. She leans into Sokka’s arms. She supposes that her autumn is off to a good start, all things considered. </span>
</p>
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